


Zeta-7 and The Kiss

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [3]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Adorable Doofus Rick (Rick and Morty), Consent, Cooking, Doofus Rick Being Sweet, Established Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Gift Giving, I Hope To Rewrite This Someday, Internal Conflict, Kissing, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Painting, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: In this fic, the reader wants a kiss, but knows better then to ask for something he's not ready for.





	Zeta-7 and The Kiss

Friday was the day you always looked forward to. It meant a whole day with your favorite dork. When you heard the knock, you made sure you looked human enough to accept him into your home, and when you opened the door, he laughed. Turns out that in your bout of excitement, you had forgotten to change out of your hello kitty pajamas. Oh well, at least you looked cute.

As usual, he was in a delightful mood, deliciously cheerful, a smile which could last for days upon his lips. Zeta-7s eyes roved about, curious about his surroundings, his sing song voice twisting, and curling about you. When his gaze came to settle on you, your lame attempt at covering your tummy made him frown. Most of the time you could cover it up, but your pajamas seemed to emphasize the parts you didn't like. You excused yourself to change into something warmer.

When you came back, you saw two cups on the coffee table. In his hands was the painting, the one he had been painting a few days ago. It was lovely from a distance, lovelier up close, but nothing could compare to the soft look he gave you when you joined him. You asked what was the matter, and he answered by giving you the painting. Zeta-7 blushed, explaining as to why he wanted you to have it.

He told you that you were the subject of the piece. You were skeptical, because it was difficult to believe that one, it was you, and two that this was how he saw you. You tried to deny it, that somehow this goddess on the canvas held any resemblance to you, but he encouraged you to examine it again. An elegant woman, seated amidst the tall grass, whose flowing hair, full face, and bright eyes teased, was making daisy chains. Around her was a crowd of admirers, and in the distance was a man in the shadows, his face indecipherable.

The woman sort of looked like you, well it was, but just a way better, prettier, sexier version of you, and the man in the shadows almost looked like him. It made you wonder if he found the world just as fascinating. It also made you wonder where the enigmatic man ended, and the loving boyfriend began. Zeta-7 scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your questioning gaze, and you understood that the painting was his way of saying that he thought you were beautiful, he adored you, but you were a temptress. If he thought you were going to find someone else, or if you wanted someone better, then he thought wrong, but you wouldn't ask.

No, you'd never blame him for feeling this way, because you felt this way sometimes, and it was only natural. How brave he was, how nerve-wracking it must have been for him to gather the courage to even present this to you. Even now he waited, wringing his hands, eager to please waiting for your response. Telling him you loved it wouldn't be enough, not for something like this, because you knew that actions spoke louder than words.

The painting you set it down to the side, and asked if it would be alright to hold his hand.

While you two had already reached a comfort level where holding hands was no longer a big deal, you still asked so that he would have a choice. Zeta-7 nodded, a soft yes escaped his lips. You asked him again, telling him it's okay if he didn't want to. He answered with a firm yes, then gently you took his thin hand in yours, gave it a firm squeeze, and kissed it, flashing him your best of smiles.

Dad always told you that nothing could beat laughter and a smile, that you'd get through your fear and sorrow if you could smile. He seemed relieved, and you asked him to explain the process he used, even if to distract him a little. Zeta-7 really was trying, and little by little, his confidence grew, and you rewarded him with small touches. He should really wear gloves you thought, especially during this time of year, his skin really was thin. While he held his mug of coffee in one hand, you used both of your hands to warm the other.

You wanted him to grow used to this sort of affection, or risk scaring him again. Not too long ago, you had moved in too close, too fast, trying to steal a kiss, but this caught him off guard, causing him to jump back, and the tears which followed were the most pitiful you had ever seen. It would be another few hours after that until he told you the reasons for this response, and another week before your guilt ebbed. After that, you realized that his behavior for the span of your relationship was not just shyness, that you might have caused him undue distress, anxiety, heartache, sadness, and that consent would be needed for a case such as his. While you two had been but two souls, awkward, and lonely, touch had taken on more than something physical, it was healing, psychological, and pure.

You found that if you allowed him to come to you, he was more at ease to show his affection, which is what you wanted. Yet, somewhere you began to get greedy, you wanted more. You were hungry, selfish, and those feelings made you feel evil, but you had to remind yourself daily of what it was you had with him, and why you couldn't only focus on what you wanted. Blame the imperfect human condition, it's knowledge of good and bad, sin and its desires, which made you question every impulse you had, and which ones you should act on. If you could, you'd do more than just hold hands, you'd worship him, but on this occasion you decided to cook him a nice dinner instead.

* * *

You weren't that great a cook, what with your habit to order takeaway more than you should, but you could make a mean pesto. It would not take long to cook, but you took your time, being in tune with the world around you. In the other room, your Victrola played Moonlight Serenade, it's melody reminding you of a Audrey Hepburn film. On the kitchen table laid the parts of your toaster, and Zeta-7 was trying to figure out what went wrong. You hadn't asked him to fix it, but he volunteered, he enjoyed tinkering, and it didn't matter to you as long as he was happy.

Funny, years ago, you probably wouldn't have cared at all. Before dad died, before Zeta-7 ever came into your life, you weren't that great of a person. You lived for your video games, you didn't want to do anything else. Day to night, it was all you did, all you wanted, because you really needed a powerful distraction. You were but a child in a woman's body, with no one but your dad taking care of you, but then he died suddenly.

Forced to finally grow up, you played catch up, learned fast, and through your dealings with others, you realized what was truly the matter with you. Life changed, and you changed with it, putting everything into focus. You couldn't say you hated your life so much before, but you hated what you were, and now it was better, but sadder all at once, because you became the person your father knew you could be. Dad, your best friend and hero, he would always remain like the breeze, the whisper in the house, your greatest gift, your cherished memory. And in this house of your youth, which was once just a place, was now a home well lived him; a home full of memories, brimming with ever blooming dreams.

Your pesto at the first taste seemed fine, but ended in a blah, so you added more basil. Going by taste sometimes worked, it was what dad tended to do. For years, this spot before the stove had been his. He'd cook with a beer in one hand, and a skillet in the other. Mixing stuff, and throwing it together was all you could handle for now, but one day it would be great.

* * *

While eating, Rick told you about his latest projects, and you told him about the eccentricities of your latest story. While he followed your every word, you found it a bit difficult to follow his, and not for the reasons one might think. Whenever the topic of science came up, you tried not to be a raging dork; you were attracted to intelligence after all. His eye for detail, and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back, but stimulating. Oh, but his ticks and quirks were oddly alluring as well.

Zeta-7s gestures made every story more exciting than it actually was. His hair would move about, that endless smile would showcase his buck teeth, and when he'd finish talking he'd do this cute little lip bite. Did he even know what he was doing to you? Damn, the guy was too pure for this world, and you couldn't help but be drawn to him.

After dinner, you needed a little space to cool off your head and clean up the kitchen. Zeta-7 offered to help, but you insisted he'd relax, and wait in the living room. Good, now you could reflect on your actions, and try not to screw things up. In the past, in your last relationship, you were so eager, you scared the guy with your promises of eternal devotion. This time, you would be sure to tread carefully.

You'd hate to lose him, anyone for that matter.

Later, after you had finished the dishes, and you were ready to cuddle up on the couch and watch a cheesy movie. You changed out of your stained clothes, choosing to put on your new yellow dress, and paired it with galaxy patterned tights. In the mirror, you practiced your best cute face, especially the one you used when you really wanted him to blush something awful. You wanted to look nice, and hopefully encourage Rick to be more affectionate

Oh, you were hoping you could get him to kiss you today.

There must have been something in the air, which made you giddy and effervescent. Too many carbs, not enough sleep, the thought of your cute boyfriend; how did your body handle so many feelings at once? You refrained from a squeal, and was impatient to return to him, but when you did, you found him asleep on the couch. Perhaps it was his age, he was seventy if you were correct, though your couch was comfortable, but that didn't change the fact that he was asleep when you needed him awake to kiss you. You thought of poking him, wondering if he would squirm, or scrunch up his nose, but you wouldn't; well not yet.

Carefully, you took a seat on the ground, deciding to watch him.

Zeta-7 had long lashes for a man, a full head of hair, and was just as impressive overall, his height, and intelligence were even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself, but you'd never been disappointed. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If only he would just wake and kiss you so you wouldn't have to wait in expectation. Those lips, which spoke of wisdom, which could explain the reasons why there was no evil in the world, if only they would part and you could taste the softness of his mouth. Would he be sweet? Would he even want to kiss you? Did you mean enough to him?

No, Zeta-7 cared, he had proven so with his painting. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Damn, you weren't like those girls at work who spouted off about how cute their boyfriend was, you didn't need that sort of validation. What you needed, you needed to be patient. Your feelings were mutual, of that you were certain, but you were young, unsure of where your place was in the universe.

Maybe, it was wisdom that allowed him to act as he did, and you didn't know a good thing when you saw it.

Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. What if he thought it was silly? What if he only wanted a companion instead of a lover? What if what you gave him wasn't enough?

The soft sounds of snoring interrupted these disquieting thoughts. No, he was comfortable here, you knew that. Zeta-7 spent a great deal of his time in your presence. Age didn't matter when two people got along as though there were no yesterdays or tomorrow's. You liked him because he made you feel safe, and comfortable, because he cared what you had to say, and you mattered to him when you didn't matter to anyone.

To you, he was a hero. Your sweet half orange, he was a treasure, and you'd fight the monsters of his mind to find him again if you had to, just as much as he would for you. You were part of his world, whether or not that was enough for you, it would be an ongoing battle to ruminate another day. You could wait, you would wait.

When his eyes fluttered open, a smile decorated his face. You smiled back, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. To think that you were all flustered over a kiss, when just his smile was enough to make you fluttery. Sitting up, he checked the time, apologizing for dozing off. There was no need for apologies, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

You asked him if he had dreamed. No, he said, because his dream appeared before him. A nervous chuckle escaped him, another little lip bite followed. You told him that it drove you crazy when he did that, and how if he kept doing that he might need to lock you up, because he was just too cute. Why, he asked, as though it weren't already obvious.

This man was going to be the death of you.

You told him that you weren't always as honest as you should be. Honestly, you told him about how you were attracted to him, how he drove you wild over things that others would see as nothing. And because you took this relationship seriously, you wouldn't do anything to hurt him on purpose. You were sometimes afraid of yourself, of being so terribly human, and how in the end, you would lose him. Zeta-7 patted the space beside him, inviting you to sit there; willingly you obeyed.

He asked if he could touch you, the very words sending shivers down your spine. Enthusiastically you approved, and with one hand cradling your face, Zeta-7 softened, and told you it was okay to touch him too. Whoever thought this man was a Doofus didn't know what they were talking about. You leaned into his touch, ready to melt. Those hands which were made for science, were warm, and gentle as he wiped away the tears you didn't realize were falling.

Leaning in close, he whispered into your ear, his words the ones you were dying to hear. You told him to tell you if he didn't want this, but he did not change his mind. His sweet breath feathered your face, callused fingertips passed through your hair, gingerly touching your scalp. Eyes closed, you sighed, enjoying the sensations. To him, this might have been new, to have a sense of control in a relationship, but even so he didn't abuse that right.

You wanted him to be free, to give, and feel freely. Every gift of his, every word, and touch, were but small blessings. Almost touching, your lips teased, a hair away from delighting in him. Once more you asked if he wanted this, he chuckled wholeheartedly, and his lips were the answer. When you parted, you knew. 

You would never be a master of romance, or ever claim to be, but this….this was love. On your forehead, as though a butterfly had chosen you, came his lingering kiss. Zeta-7, confident in his words, thanked you for being with him, for wanting him when you could do so much better. You expressed what you had wanted to say since the day you met him, that you didn't deserve him, but you wanted him, just him, and you hoped that was okay. Then you asked if it was alright to hug him, and he said yes.

You held him close, rubbing his back, and telling him why you wanted him, and why you needed him in your life. You two, were but a pair of sentimental fools, curious, scared, but never alone as long as you had each other. Even in winter, in spring, summer, or fall, the sunny warmth of his smile would follow. In this house in which you live, and in his company, there would be something worthwhile. And before the day was through, exchanging your goodbyes as you eventually do, he told you a secret, and the secret was he had only ever loved you.


End file.
